The Detective Romance
by Tomorrows News
Summary: A Detective story wrapped in romance, or a Romance buried in mystery? I says it’s nutty comedy, but no one wants to believe me. Naoto/Souji


Male Lead: Seta Souji

Female Lead: Naoto Shirogane

Genre: Detective Mystery/Romance

Rating: M for Money

Summary: A Detective story wrapped in romance, or a Romance buried in mystery? I says it's nutty comedy, but no one wants to believe me.

The Detective Romance

By Prozak

The clearing was muted and empty, save the echoing wind, the squawking gulls, and the few scattered figures around a rainbow eyesore.

It seemed as though the wind had enough of the colorful abomination, speeding up with enough strength that the thin material billow upwards into the air.

The scene underneath... looked rather grisly.

She was not the only person to notice, with the majority of officers around reacting, some appropriately, others not so much. However, all of them began to move as professionally possible when a purple-faced man, significantly older than anyone else there, barreled through them all, shouting orders in a way that was probably unhealthy for his vocal chords.

Policeman began moving, uncovering the parachute from the corpse underneath. It looked very painstaking, she decided, when the parachute was effortlessly unraveled from the men's hard work with a simple breeze.

Despite their ruined efforts, Naoto did glimpse an oddity. There, where the victims' legs should be, was a broken mess, obvious and not buried in sand, unlike the victim's torso and head. Peculiar did not begin to describe it. A rash of irritation sprung up her spine, increasingly hot as she waited, but she knocked it down fiercely. The officers used a slow, steady pace because it was effective, not because they were bumbling, though maybe a little slower than they could do. With that though, her impatience instantly urged her to help.

Before she decided, she was reprieved of any choice when a heavy-set man, the kind wider than he was tall, settled beside her. "So, Naoto-kun," he said, enthusiastically swatting her shoulder. "What would you make of this mess so far? One man found dead, strung up and--what's the saying? Hung by his own petard?--yes, hung by his own petard! And the dreadful hijacking business. I wonder what the airlines will say for their part in this..."

Naoto closed her eyes and...smiled. "Sterling, we can't go making rash judgments this early on in the case. We haven't even properly seen the corpse."

"True, true, very true, Naoto-kun! That's the reason why you're here in the first place," he said importantly. "But I was--" he scratched his chin. "Yes, I truly was hoping I could be treated to a glimpse of the genius beneath that hat? It's very famous--your genius I mean."

She glimpsed to him from the corner of her eye, but was a little stunned to see her own arm instead—she felt with her hand only to feel her hat. It quickly dropped. "If you are so keen to see, then be patient!" she said, a little hotly, but she calmed herself. "Crimes shouldn't be treated as lightly as you're making it sound."

"Now, now, there's no need to be so testy." He maybe smiled, though the mustache smothered it if he did. "I was simply curious what the youngest detective I've ever known believes caused this disturbing debacle."

Naoto shook her head. "There's no way to know right now, so I suggest you occupy yourself elsewhere or be patient, like I already said."

Sterling 'hmph'd in a way that sounded like he wanted a 'hmm', in the universal signal that he didn't believe she just did that. A rushed goodbye later, he left, perhaps taking her dismissal more personally than she intended, but not enough for her to console the man. Naoto doubted she'd ever want to, anyways.

"Enjoying picking on my subordinates, Shirogane-san?" said the not-so-purple-faced man, from before.

A little smile worked its way onto her. "Like usual, Detective."

Detective Jiro sighed, and then scratched his hair. Then he did it again, harder. "Well, whatever. Sterling's an ass anyways. You do your thing like always and I'll fill you in as you go."

Naoto nodded, and made toward the scene.

"Before I begin explaining the facts, I'm going to settle something with you. This hijacking is huge, government officials, men in black, very hush-hush." Detective Jiro shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "There's nothing I can do besides what I'm about to tell you. Any further investigation is officially and absolutely prohibited, so no nobodies like me are going to have any clue concerning this crap after the 'real' investigators get their grubby hands on the scene."

"As expected," she said, as she began to dig. "This has been the first case of a Japanese plane being hijacked since 1999, and considering what happened in America shortly after..."

"No, that's not why." He sounded bitter. "There's--hold on. What are you men still doing here? Maybe I didn't make myself clear when I gave you your orders earlier. GO!"

A small group of men, previously lounging, broke and scattered. Jiro turned back to her.

Naoto killed her smile, turning back to the corpse. "What orders made them tempt your temper?"

"Traffic duty."

"They'd risk formal disciplinary action just because they're lazy?"

"I guess," Jiro said, noncommittally. "Pretending to know what you kids think nowadays gets harder by the minute. Anyways, none of that's important. What is important is the information I've got for you. Something you really want to hear, for your own good."

Naoto never stopped scanning the corpse. "I'm listening."

"I'm going to cut to the chase: the higher-ups have been holding back. They know something, and they probably know that we know, but it's obvious to everyone that we aren't going to do a thing about it." There was disappointment coloring his words. "Whoever's been put in charge doesn't want the locals taking care of this nonsense, and it's been made clear that once we've secured the beach and the crash-site we're getting our asses kicked off this case."

It was obvious where this was going. "And you felt the need to warn me that I'd be meddling in the sordid affairs of our wonderful government."

Jiro made a throaty huff. "Why'd I even bother bringing it up to you? But, even if an arrogant brat like you could figure that out, there's still something more. The more important bit obviously because you'd never know it otherwise."

"Well?" Naoto said, irritated with his pause. It did help her pull the man's head out of the sand quicker.

His smirk was audible, and she knew he started explaining then, but Naoto never heard it, her attention stolen by long scuff marks on the victim's forehead. She inspected the swollen lines stretching from the victim's hairline down past his ears, and something prickled her mind precisely as she rubbed her fingers on them.

"These marks are self-inflicted."

She heard sand kicked around. "Huh? Were you listening at all?" Jiro bent over her. "What's the matter?"

"Look closely at this mans forehead," Naoto said, cleaning away sand. "There are three lines--something like scratch marks--going from two separate points near the temples to right behind the ears."

"Yeah, and? What's the great deduction?"

Naoto shook her head. "There's no deduction, merely observation. This man had to have done this to himself, though the reason escapes me."

Jiro watched her as she stood up. "You sure? That doesn't seem right to me. Maybe we're... missing something. Give me a sec."

"Hm, you sound like you've thought of--" Naoto started, but stopped herself as she saw Jiro race away. She stared for a moment, watching his clumsy form head over the sandy hills and out of sight.

Naoto turned back and began her research in earnest.

A good five to ten minutes later, Detective Jiro reappeared over the sandy horizon.

"You finished with your end?" he called, crossing the few meters between him and Naoto. He pulled a plastic bag out from his pocket.

"More or less. Did your men find...?" she ventured, taking the bag from Jiro.

"They did. You look like you know already, but when the boys were checking around the area they found some glass shards." Jiro paused to scratch his neck. "We weren't able to find the needle, but there's no doubt that what you're holding is part of a--"

"--a syringe," Naoto finished. "That fits with what I've found." She motioned to the corpse. "There's a swelling on the victim's right forearm, where what amounts to an unclean needle was most likely injected. Have your men properly handled this evidence?"

"They have, Shirogane-san," he said, somewhat stiffly. He seemed rushed. "No need to worry. If there's anything to find on that syringe, you'll find it. As for the detail earlier: the crash-site has been sealed off from my men. Officially, we're here hanging around to prevent civilians from stumbling upon a miniature scrap yard, but really it's us holding fort till the more important guys get here.

"Now, if you're finished, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His eyes hardened. "I don't think there's any reason to explain why"

"Of course, Detective. It's been a pleasure."

Not but a moment later Naoto traversed Jiro's dune, entering a flat, sullen plain, which screamed the effects of a vicious rainstorm. She waded her way through the mingling policemen, all the while ignoring an electrified atmosphere, her intent gaze focused solely on the notebook in her hands. Her vision flicked from left to right, worked its way down, and stopped.

She took out a pen, long and bulbous, 'click-clicked' until satisfied and jotted:

Additional oddity - conspicuous syringe found around body, logical conclusion obvious, too obvious to be viable. Could same syringe used on victim fall within direct vicinity? Must investigate further.

Naoto pocketed her book, and stopped. A lengthy, elegant car stood in her way, standing out as distinctly civilian against the swarms of government vehicles. Rather than weave around though, she went inside. "Sorry for the wait," she said, and buckled up.

The familiar rumble, steady like a hum, kicked in. "Where does your work take you today, Naoto-sama?"

"Kiryu's place, Yakushiji-san. And, please hurry."

Hurry he did. Time sped by as she absorbed herself in her scribbled notes, messily sprinkled all over the page. It proved more detrimental than helpful, as her powerful headache soon attested, twisting the soothing vibrations and cadence of the car into a hateful, thought-smiting abomination. She considered using smelling salts to forcefully 'wake' herself up, but Yakushiji caught her attention before she could.

"It is probably for the best that you refrain from speculating at this point, Mistress," he explained, calmly, somehow knowing about her confusion. And, only as though solidifying that, yes, he did: "You are a very easy read at times, increasingly so whenever you insulate yourself with work."

Befuddled described her thoughts very well. She remembered schooling her features to stay blank, or did she? "You couldn't possibly...."

"Indeed, I did. Perhaps you should further your studies of Cold-Reading, like the Master suggests. It truly is a wonderful trick for a detective to learn, and it becomes doubly so when said detective begins mastering the art."

Grampa did insist often... "Would you mind giving an example?"

"Certainly, though I must admit that I am hardly as masterful as I made myself sound." He paused while turning a corner. "The Master actually introduced me to the skill himself, and so far as I know he is the most skilled Reader I know of. It would be more beneficial to go directly to him, than settle for me."

Naoto's gaze flicked to the side.

Yakushiji continued. "If you still wish, I will provide the example."

She nodded, still looking away. Trapped as she was within her mind, she completely forgot he was driving. "Sure."

"Then I believe I'll use you as an example, Mistress. Firstly, I will admit, if I was to simply judge your thoughts and feelings by facial expressions alone, I would fail to gain anything substantial. You have very formidable control from your brow, down to your cheek-bones and jaw. Rarely have I seen your expression falter, even when you were in very dire straights. It is an impressive talent."

Flushed from the praise, she wondered if he did that on purpose to jar her. "Thank you, Yakushiji-san."

"However," he cut-in, sharply. "You have quite easily ignored the rest of your body, and I am having trouble understanding why. Even compared to the complexity of the human face, the other parts of our body--specifically our hands and body posture--have as much if not more to say. Can you explain why you have neglected this?"

Naoto sighed. It never got easier. "No, I'm unable to."

"Would you consider listening to my thoughts on this matter?"

"Of course." Deferring when more experienced people offered advice had practically been beaten into her mind.

"Perhaps, you should consider why you ignored it, Mistress. Self-reflection is an important part of being human, sensitive and impressionable, easily abused by those both thick and thin. Too much focus on yourself and you risk waging battle against yourself more than anything else around you. Too little..."

Embarrassingly enough, that was a lesson she was already taught. Years ago, by someone close to her heart. It made dropping her gaze unavoidable. "Too little, and you become arrogant."

"Which is why you will consider that your new mission statement," Yakushiji started, an odd inflection in his tone. "Chin up, Naoto-sama. Face the world. Face yourself. Learn as you live, gathering data, ascertaining methods--"

"—and taking action," she finished with a smile.

He chuckled fondly in return, lightening the atmosphere in the car for the first time that day. "I did not realize you remembered."

There was a pounding in her chest, like a cudgel beating on her heart like a drum until she finally gave in. She giggled like mad. "How could I forget? It's my childhood!"

OoOoO

Yakushiji slowed their ride down and pulled up alongside rows of multi-shaped, multicolored blocks, which stretched up high overhead. It made a great skyline for any travelers coming across the waterfront, but it was just the Yokozuki Highrise for everyone else. Characterized entirely by the corporate takeover lining the streets from the docks to the inner city, most Japanese knew this was the place to go for shopping bar none, but an outsider would be dazzled by how flamboyantly every store crafted its outer shell, similar in theory to how the prettiest Peacock catches the most attention. Golden flamingo statues were the norm and Langusta shrimps were advertised everywhere.

Naoto stepped out, and peered around languidly.

"I assume you have plans for later?"

She rested against the open window. "And you knew that because of... cold-reading?"

"Unfortunately, not this time, Mistress. You did not ask me to wait upon your return, so I guessed."

"Oh, well... you're right. Would you mind explaining--"

"All will be explained to the Master." Yakushiji smiled. "Go get him, Naoto-sama."

The window squeaked shut, and the car drifted away from the curb, slowly and surely, as though to mock her... or, more likely, because of morning traffic. Naoto rolled her eyes and left when Yakushiji stopped after moving about a foot away.

Already accustomed to Fukuoka's normally bizarre nature, Naoto wasted no time staring at the strange contraptions built around the locale. She made a beeline for her destination, keeping it crisp and clear in mind, especially after her relaxing drive here. Even so, she also had a first time where, typically, she gawked after arriving--in a quiet, dignified way, of course. Far be it from her to boast that nothing here piqued her curiosity. The large portions of her memory held hostage by a massive animatronic Anna Miller waitress testified against that claim.

Fortune accompanied her this day though, freeing her from wading through an agitated morning crowd. Ahead, standing-out only because they failed to stand-out, were a short section of vaguely beige blocks with doors in them, looking out of place as ever. A massive cement overhang stretched on, past the short strip of mundanity and twisting around the corner, as though even it was more interesting and had better places to be. Naoto admitted, its sheer size did prove more interesting.

Opening the middle door, she climbed the stairs and followed a linear path. Around a single bend, she stopped at a door and knocked. The door immediately swung open.

"Naoto-kun! How ya doin'?! Come in already, why you just standing there." He almost forced her in.

The grubby man took a few steps back and pulled out a chair. "Sit, sit! A lady shouldn't stand around like that."

Naoto sniffed. "Have you taken a shower yet, Lang?"

"N--well, yes! Of course! What do you think I am?" he asked, and paused as though just noticing something. "I thought I told you to call me Sanji."

Shaking her head, she declined the offered chair. "And I told you I can't do that. Now," she cut off his protest, "are your tools ready, Lang?"

He plunked down in his seat and scooted away.

"Lang..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry." He waved over. "Over here on the tray."

Seeing it, she placed the syringe down.

"...That's it?" He prodded it.

"Yes... is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, none at all." He kept prodding it. "I mean, it was stupid of me thinking you'd bring something cool or unusual for once. Maybe dangerous, like a murder weapon, or a toxic poison, or a damn gun, or something that doesn't make me question why you keep coming to me! Seriously, why!? Some of the stuff you bring is so _boring_." He began naming off very specific and surprisingly detailed instances of exactly the kind of boring things she had brought to him. She almost expected him to list the dates.

Anyways, she had enough. She slapped her hand on the desk, rattling a few delicate looking tools. It got his attention. "Lang. Stop whining, and for one second of your life pay attention. Look at the evidence."

He did so.

"Excellent." She took a breath, now that they were on the right track. "This syringe was found near a murder victim, or what is overwhelmingly believed to be a murder case. Either way, I saw something similar to the mark an injection might make on the victim's right arm, and with the evidence it only speeds along my speculations."

Somewhere through that, he had perked up. "And those are?"

"Like I said, this is speculation, but it's highly probable the victim was tortured. Your help identifying any compound on the evidence will be needed for me to prove it's more than speculation. I'll pay the usual, of course."

"Hah, that goes without saying. There's no way I'd let you." He scratched his chin. "But, uh, sorry for being so kiddy. I-... probably annoyed you."

"That goes without saying," she said, hand on hip. "If you really mean that apology, then you should know what you can do to prove it."

Chuckling stiffly, he turned around. "Righto, just, like, wait for a bit, and I'll tell you..." He held the glass near the light, swishing it occasionally. Barely a minute passed when he put it back down. "I'll tell you that I can't tell anything like that."

Naoto rubbed her temple.

"H-hey, don't be like that! I know what I'm doing, honest. There just isn't enough residue of whatever was there to tell you how long it might take. Could be a week, could be six months. I figured you'd like to know that stuff."

"I would," she said, appreciatively. "Do you have all the tools necessary?"

"Course I do," he mumbled. Moving towards a collection of items beyond her fathom, he began gently handling the syringe from one system of work to another until he turned back to her, his face strained into an awkward smile. He chuckled nervously. "Well, uh, Naoto-kun, there's a problem. It's--"

"Stop." His reaction only confirmed her thoughts. Rather than press him, she planned ahead earlier, and so produced a baggy. "Take it. It's a spit sample."

With a look of respect, he took the bag. Before taking the item out, he gleaned a new pair of gloves from his desk, and removed his sand stained ones. He set to work on a completely different set of systems, calmly determining what drug was used on the victim. "Eight hours," he said, still working.

Naoto froze, then instantly defrosted. "I'll come in tomorrow for it."

Now he looked up. "What?" He glanced away. "It's only 11 o'clock. I'll be done before 9."

"I know...I'm busy later."

"Busy how?" he asked, incredulous. "Busy fighting evil by the moonlight? Are you actually the Caped Crusader and didn't tell me?"

Rolling her eyes, she ignored his taunt. "I'll be expecting results tomorrow morning. And I do mean tomorrow morning. Wake up early... and take a shower, please."

OoOoO

All things considered, Naoto entered the building with more than a few inhibitions.

There had been stories, and her line of work allowed for more than her fair share to come by and smack her in the ear. Untold scads of these stories were obviously exaggerated from her imaginings, so she discarded many, with little fanfare, because she knew that was what the mind did from her studies under her grandfather, under Yakushiji-san, and under various other sources--especially over the last several years.

Though, some of the stories were too crazy for her imagination to create on its own. An absolutely undeniable fact considering who she was, no rebuttals allowed.

But, yeah, that's not the point.

What she had come to hear about, come to exaggerate, and come to shy away from possibly in fear or nervousness or some other ridiculous emotion she had no time to prepare for ended up being very simple. Very straightforward. She probably should have made an educated guess, since over the course of centuries it has had time to shape itself for ease-of-use, convenience, and maximum customer satisfaction.

"Ah, yes, the woman's section," Naoto said, to no one in particular.

Someone heard. "Can I help you miss?"

She was sure she didn't jump. "Um, well..." Naoto looked out to the endless sea of clothing. "Yes...yes, I think I'll take your help."

"Great," said the girl, beaming. Her hand came out.

For some reason Naoto thought she should know what that meant.

"Oh," the girl giggled. "Sorry, that's a western custom. A handshake."

Slapping her forehead was too undignified to actually do, but the feeling was there. "...Yes, sorry for my rudeness."

"Its okay, no need to apologize!" she chirped. "I learnt it from a friend who travelled years ago, and it was really awkward for me too. It was so embarrassing." The girl's cheeks stained red. "But that's enough about me."

"No, it's okay. I wouldn't mind listening." And Naoto meant it. She rarely had time to chat freely like this.

"Well...okay. But you were here to buy something, weren't you?"

Naoto looked around, feeling a flush coming. "Er, yes, I was. I'm--" she paused deliberately, though not a second later gave up and winged it. "I have no idea where to start."

Placing her hands on her hips, the other girl gave Naoto a cute glare. "Well, we're just going to need to fix that!" Her face went deadly serious. "What were you looking for?"

Naoto stammered, completely not expecting the question. It took a moment, but she explained what she had in mind before coming here. "...A nice dress. A nice black dress."

Another beam came from the girl, though it held no smarm. She seemed genuinely eager. "I think I have just the thing."

OoOoO

Author's note territory, take caution. Also: There's a poll, and it's relevant to the story. Really, really relevant. It could decide it's entire fate, so vote. For the children.

There's really one thing I want to know. Reading over this thing myself, I keep getting the feeling it's very quick. Can anyone confirm this? I'd appreciate it if you could. Yes you, the one reading this. You should buy a new chair sometime, by the way.

Anyways, thanks for reading! :D

Update: 25/01/09 - Turns out there's actually an entire prefecture of Japan called Fukuoka. I have no idea how I missed that, but I'm going to need to change the setting I established. So, it's gonna go from the 'Fukuoka Highrise' to 'Yokozuki Highrise'.


End file.
